


Sleepy Angels

by gallifreytrash



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Tension, Eventual Fluff, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 22:10:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreytrash/pseuds/gallifreytrash
Summary: Aziraphale takes Crowley's offer to stay at his place. After some awkward wandering around, the two of them end up sharing Crowley's bed, semi-conscious admissions ensue.





	Sleepy Angels

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the janky formatting, to be honest I didn't really know where I was going with it. This is unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes, they're all on me (it's also my first fic so bear with me)

“You can stay at my place, if you like.” Crowley had offered.

If he was being honest with himself he really hadn’t expected Aziraphale to accept this proposal, of course he was glad later on when the angel had looked up at him on the bus,

“I might take you up on your previous offer,” the angel had said. “If that’s quite alright with you, of course…”

“I offered, didn’t I?” Crowley had responded.

Now they were almost at his apartment building, and he thought about what on earth he was going to do about this. In all the years that Crowley had occupied his current apartment, Aziraphale had never visited. This was usually because Crowley often preferred to see him in the shop, it felt more like their place than his apartment.

Despite the pride that Crowley had in his apartment, he was fairly certain that Aziraphale wouldn’t like it much. The bookshop had been cluttered to the ceiling with papers, old books and plush furniture, and light filtered warmly in from the windows and skylight. It was quite the opposite of Heaven, which was almost surgical in it’s white, sterile emptiness, if Crowley’s memory served. It was always so bright but it always felt cold up there, the harsh light lacking any warmth at all. Crowley supposed that this was why the bookshop had been so cosy and, for lack of a better word, full. Crowley couldn’t blame the angel for wanting a home that was different from his respective head office, Crowley had done much the same thing with the flat after all. It was always cleared of too much clutter, and it was wide and spacious, lacking the cosiness of the shop, which was really why he was afraid Aziraphale wouldn't like it. When he wanted it to be, it was dark, and when he needed light he had plenty of windows to let the sun in. He only kept a few pieces of furniture, enough to provide basic comforts while also keeping the rooms fairly clear. Very different from Hell, which was somewhat like the bookshop in that it was not very spacious, but a lot less cosy. It was cold, damp and suffocating, with posters on the walls advertising just how worthless the Fallen are. It was such a negative space that Crowley could barely stand being down there for too long. Crowley desperately hoped, as the two of them got off the bus outside the building, that Aziraphale wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. If he’d’ve known the angel would be staying the night (a night that he thought wouldn’t even happen when he had woken up that morning), he might have miracled in some more sofas, lamps or books, lit a candle maybe? Anything to make the angel feel more at home after the loss of the bookshop (which Aziraphale was clearly quite upset about, despite trying his very best to hide it).

The two of them walked up to the doors of the building and went in, calling the lift and heading up to the correct floor. As they approached the door, Crowley snapped his fingers and held it open for Aziraphale. Once inside, he shut the door and followed the angel, who was gazing up at the high ceilings. Crowley, feeling rather apprehensive at what he would think, followed after him.

“I’m sorry it’s not as warm and inviting as the bookshop was, if I’d have known before I left this morning that the Earth would not only still be here, but that we would both end up here as well, I would’ve spruced it up a bit.” the demon said sheepishly.

“Oh, er, no it’s quite alright, I don’t mean to be a burden on you, really.” Aziraphale responded in earnest.

“No, no, you’re not a burden, I just- I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable…” the demon trailed off, his feelings of shame growing with each pause. Aziraphale wandered over to the statue at the end of one of the halls, the one of an angel and a demon fighting with each other.

“What’s this?” the angel asked,

“Um, it’s, er, supposed to remind me ‘what I am and what I’m supposed to do’, Hastur’s idea, of course…” Crowley responded, embarrassment growing even more. At this point he was about ready to turn into a snake and curl up tightly in the corner.

The angel nodded and moved on. He seemed to be taking in the space, flitting to and fro examining all the art and furniture of the flat, before finally coming to the plants.

“I didn’t take you for a gardener Crowley!” he said, sounding excited as he reached out to touch the leaf of a plant. Crowley had scolded that particular plant a few days ago, it had started to brown, and Crowley’s response to that, as usual, had been to scare the ever-loving shite out of it. Sure enough, it had been perfectly green again the next day, not a twig out of place.

“I wouldn’t um, do that.” Crowley interjected, realising that he didn’t really want the angel knowing about his gardening style and/or judging him for it.

“Crowley,” the angel sighed, “why do you yell at these poor plants?” Clearly he had figured it out.

“They don’t grow otherwise, they just die,” Crowley said. “I figured it was because I was a demon, we’re supposed to wreck things, not grow them, y’know?”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, he wasn’t angry like he had expected, but it was almost a pitying look.

“If you love them enough, they’ll grow, my dear.” He said, “You should endeavour to be more gentle with them.”

Guilt flashed across the demons face, but Aziraphale was already moving on. Crowley resolved to maybe be just a bit nicer to the plants, even if it was only because he didn’t like Aziraphale being disappointed or patronising.

Crowley yawned, the exhaustion from the trials and tribulations of the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t suddenly weighing down on him. Aziraphale, now finished scouting out the flat, turned to face the demon.

“I am rather tired after all that business today, co-inhabiting a body is rather draining, especially with Shadwell asking questions the whole time...”

“Yeah, I’m tired too, i s’pose stopping Heaven and Hell from destroying Earth has that effect, huh? I thought you never slept, angel. Isn’t that the whole point of ‘God’s virtue being ever-vigilant’?” the demon mocked.

“Well I have a few times over the millennia when I was particularly bored, and tonight I’m deciding that I can make another exception. After all, Gabriel probably has other more pertinent matters to engage in rather than tracking us down for now, I’d imagine the startling lack of an Apocalypse would entail a rather large amount of paperwork, though I’m sure Heaven and Hell will be upon us soon enough…” he trailed off, face beginning to turn downcast. He visibly shook the train of thought away, starting again, “To be fair though Crowley, you shouldn’t be sleeping either, let alone as often as you choose to.”

“Well, yes, you’ve got me there. But it’s either sleeping or causing mischief, and there’s only so much mischief this demon can handle.” he said, the smile returning to his face, trying to cheer up the angel just a bit.

“You can take my bed if you like, it’s in there.” he said, motioning to a door along one of the hallways, “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Nonsense, I don’t want to burden you, I’ll take the sofa, it’s your apartment after all.” the angel responded defiantly.

“The sofa, it’s not very comfortable, I can just miracle another matress-”

“Would it really be such a travesty to share the bed? I mean, would that not be the simplest solution?” Aziraphale interjected innocently, the unintended meaning of that first sentence clearly quite lost on him.

“Well, no, but I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable is all and I uh…” Crowley said, trailing off again.

The truth was, Crowley didn’t know if we would be able to stand being that close to Aziraphale, especially considering the state of their friendship. He’d hate to ruin what they had at this time, at the start of the rest of their lives. He needed Aziraphale, even if at times their unspoken thing could make it awkward, he could not sabotage their friendship by accidentally overstepping any boundaries, or by going too fast. Aziraphale, however, was quite stubborn and the demon knew that there was really no way he could convince him of any other solutions to the bedding problem at this point.

“Right then, shall we?” Crowley said, vaguely gesturing at the door to the bedroom and attempting to sound somewhat nonchalant.

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley led him through the door.

Crowley’s bedroom was much the same as the rest of the house. Spacious with floor to ceiling windows, albeit with thick curtains should they be needed. One could hardly sleep for as long as Crowley did if he was interrupted rudely by the sunlight, after all. The bed itself was a queen-size, with black pillows and a large black duvet. It was made up neatly, Crowley stoutly refused to let his flat be messy, even if the Earth had been about to burn that morning. The furniture solely consisted of a simple chest of drawers on one side of the room and a mirror. Overall, the bedroom was fairly minimalist, Crowley was very devoted to his sleep and believed the room in which he engaged in said activity shouldn’t be bogged down with any kind of distractions.

“Which side?” Crowley offered, waving his hand in the direction of the bed.

“I really don’t mind.” Aziraphale responded bashfully. Crowley was at least glad to see he was no longer the only one who could see the awkwardness of this situation.

“Alright, I’ll take the left then, shall I?” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, then, being the innocent thing that he was, snapped his fingers. The angel’s clothes changing from his usual coat, button-down and dress pants to a loose white T-shirt and a pair of tartan flannelette pyjama pants. Crowley, feeling even more sheepish than before, took off his sunglasses, leaving them on the dresser, slid off his shoes and made to climb into the bed. He didn’t really intend on changing clothes for fear of escalating the awkwardness of the situation. He wasn’t quite sure why a simple clothes-change could make things any worse, but he remained resolute in his decision to remain in his usual attire until Aziraphale began to insist otherwise.

“You’re not going to change? Surely those pants can’t be comfortable my dear, please don’t make exceptions because I’m here, really, it’s not a big deal.”

So, the demon awkwardly stood back up, snapping his fingers, his tight pants now replaced with baggy black sweatpants and his shirt and coat now replaced with a slate grey hoodie that was slightly too big and hung quite loosely from his slim frame (Aziraphale was quite surprised that he was wearing an outfit that did not contain even one item of form-fitting clothing, very unusual for Crowley). The demon walked back over to the bed and pulled himself under the duvet. Aziraphale did much the same thing. Crowley pulled the duvet up to his neck, cocooning himself tightly in the sheets. That was the downside of being a snake, he had cold blood, and warmth never really did seem to get all the way into his core, he needed all the bundling he could get in order to stave off some of that chill. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Aziraphale. Thoughts raced through his head: was he being rude? Would the angel be offended by him facing this way? Would it be better for him to face Aziraphale, or would that be just as awkward? He sighed, unsure of what he should do, eventually deciding that facing away from the angel would be best. Aziraphale followed suit, and turned away from Crowley, who immediately felt guilty.

“Goodnight Crowley, thank you for allowing me to stay here.” The angel said drowsily.

“S’fine…” Crowley replied, his voice cracking slightly.

Honestly, the demon felt awful about this arrangement. If it were up to him, he would have lain right next to the angel, perhaps with an arm around him. Ideally, by now Crowley would have told the angel how he felt, and, even more ideally, Aziraphale would have admitted to reciprocating said feelings, so that they could finally comfortably be close to one another and the situation they were currently in wouldn’t be so awkward. Unfortunately, Crowley also did not want to influence Aziraphale in the wrong way, and so was afraid to say anything even close to the matter should he get too close to Crowley and get into the Almighty’s bad books. That really fed into the reality that, at the end of the day, Aziraphale was an angel and Crowley was a demon. It didn’t matter how many times Crowley told himself (and the angel) that they could work together and be on their own side, he knew that Aziraphale was devoted to Heaven in a way that Crowley could never be devoted to Hell, and therefore would presumably have doubts about being close to the demon in the ways Crowley wanted. He tried to force the thought of moving nearer to Aziraphale out of his head as he fell asleep. Little did Crowley know that, just inches away from him, Aziraphale was worrying about much the same things.

* * *

Aziraphale should have slept on the couch. Of course he had wanted to be with Crowley in the bed, but now he realised how selfish it had been of him to push this onto the poor snake. Crowley had clearly been uncomfortable with this. The angel (just like Crowley) had wanted to tell him how he felt a long, long time ago, but he figured that his window of opportunity well and truly closed after all the times he had rejected Crowley’s propositions of spending time together rather than doing their respective jobs or, more recently, running off together. He had felt terrible after each rejection, but he loved Crowley too much to let him risk his life for him, after all, demons didn’t get any second chances after mistakes, angels could fall, demons just died. Then there was that tiny voice at the back of his head (curiously enough, the voice took on the same tone as Gabriel’s) that told him he should not be consorting with demons, no matter how lovely, sweet and caring they might be deep down. He rolled over slightly, looking at the demon, who seemed to be asleep now. He was shivering even though he had wrapped himself up quite tightly. Aziraphale’s heart melted then, because he really wanted to move over and wrap Crowley in a hug to warm him, but he couldn’t do that, he simply couldn’t bear to put his own hopes up. He rolled back over, still cursing himself for putting Crowley in this position as he began to fall asleep.

* * *

Crowley woke up a few hours later, he was cold. He opened his eyes to find that Aziraphale had taken the duvet largely for himself in his sleep. He sighed, mumbling to himself.

“Oh angel…”

He suddenly didn’t want to take the duvet back. The angel looked so sweet in his sleep, he had rolled over, now facing Crowley’s side of the bed. His mouth was opened slightly, breathing soft and even, chest slowly rising and falling. His hair was mussed from sleep, and some curls stuck out wildly, while others lay flat over his eyes. The urge to reach out and move the hair away from his forehead was strong, but Crowley stopped and scolded himself for being so ridiculous, getting up to retrieve another blanket and moving away from the angel. He would let Aziraphale keep the duvet.

“...Crowley?” Aziraphale said, stirring as the demon began to pad towards the dresser.

“Oh- shit, sorry angel. Didn’t mean to wake you, I, er, needed another blanket…”

“S’fine, did I steal the duvet? Sorry… not used to sleeping in a bed with someone else, or sleeping at all really…” the angel said quietly, a flush coming across his face, his eyes still thick and heavy with sleep. “Here,” he said, slurring slightly with fatigue, “You can take your side back if you like.”

Crowley forgot about the extra blanket and moved back to the bed, sliding back under his side of the duvet, now relinquished by the half-awake angel.

“Thank you,” Crowley whispered.

“S’not a problem, were you cold?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, yes, but I’m always cold.”

“Here,”

The angel beckoned for Crowley to come closer, a bold move that the demon was certain he would never have made if he were fully conscious and aware, but luckily, at that point, the angel was rather addled with sleep.

Crowley moved closer.

“Come here then,” Aziraphale said, lifting an arm up.

Crowley, now understanding what Aziraphale was implying, was hesitant. He wasn’t entirely sure if the angel was fully aware of what he was offering, he really was quite drowsy, and Crowley didn’t want to get his hopes up by taking advantage of a possibly disingenuous offer. However, he was so cold and Aziraphale looked so warm and tempting that he just couldn’t stop himself. He moved closer and positioned himself under the angel’s arm, who then pulled the demon closer to him, wrapping him in a one-armed hug under the duvet. Crowley rolled sideways, tucking himself in as close as he could to Aziraphale, who, as usual, was very warm and smelled comfortingly of old books and cinnamon. After all, was he going to reject Aziraphale’s offer? No, he sure as Hell wasn’t. Then, Aziraphale said something he definitely wouldn’t have had the courage to say if he weren’t semi-conscious.

“I love you, Crowley.”

Crowley froze, he couldn’t believe it. The shock, he could swear, almost discorporated him. He’d waited 6,000 years for Aziraphale to say those words, and now he had said them with such ease, like it was nothing at all. He couldn’t believe it was finally happening. Aziraphale froze too, after realising what he had said, suddenly waking up properly.

“Oh, um, er…” Aziraphale stuttered, his face rapidly reddening.

“Shhhhh,” the demon said, it was his turn, “I love you too, angel.” He said, looking up into Aziraphale’s eyes.

The angel immediately relaxed, and Crowley relaxed into his side. They both stared into each others eyes, expressions softening as a 6,000 year old weight was all of a sudden finally lifted from both of them as though it were never there. Crowley’s eyes blazed gold, Aziraphale’s the perfect blue that the demon had never been able to get enough of.

The moment was so perfect, and what came next was even better. Aziraphale hooked a finger under the demon’s chin, pulling him up, and kissing him. It was gentle and brief, but it was warm and loving, and everything Crowley had wanted for millennia. After the initial shock had passed, he kissed his angel back, his hand moving to the centre of the Aziraphale’s chest, draping a leg across his. They stayed like that for a while, hands tangled up in each other as they kissed, sometimes taking breaks to murmur the words they’d both been waiting to say for so long as they stared at each other. It was perfect, it didn’t matter that it had taken them so long to finally make these admissions, because, now that the world wasn’t ending, they had all the time in the world to make sure those words were never forgotten.

The two of them woke up late the next morning. Crowley was still tucked into Aziraphale’s side, head on his chest, hand draped across it, leg resting on the angel’s knee. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb the still-sleeping angel, who was lying peacefully on his back. He looked perfect, more perfect than usual. Crowley, for the first time since he fell, was warm. Not like the surface-warmth that comes from being in the sun for a while, or wrapping in warm clothes during winter, he was warm right down to his core. Aziraphale radiated a gentle heat, and Crowley was more comfortable than he had been in a long time.

“Staring are we?” Aziraphale joked as he began to stir.

“Hard not to,” Crowley replied, smiling like an idiot, “You’re beautiful.”

He got up on an elbow, lowering his head to brush his lips against Aziraphale’s.

“Thank the Almighty for sleepy angels,” said the demon, “or I’m not entirely sure I’d have had the balls to say what I said last night.”

“I suppose I’d have been rather tongue-tied as well my love, so to speak, so yes, thank the Almighty for sleepy angels.” Aziraphale said with a pleasant smile,

“Breakfast?”

Crowley hissed, “When I’m ready, who saysss i want to leave thisss bed?” He said, climbing on top of the angel, kissing him again. Aziraphale certainly wasn’t complaining, as far as he was concerned, breakfast could wait.


End file.
